t of his pocket. But, by bad luck, he was in his
dressing gown and had left it in the bedroom last night. Once the bridge
was up, I guess he thought he was safe."

"I should like these dates a little clearer," said MacDonald. "It is
quite six years since Douglas left California. You followed him next
year, did you not?"

"That is so."

"And he had been married five years. You must have returned about the
time of his marriage."

"About a month before. I was his best man."

"Did you know Mrs. Douglas before her marriage?"

"No, I did not. I had been away from England for ten years."

"But you have seen a good deal of her since."

Barker looked sternly at the detective. "I have seen a good deal of HIM
since," he answered. "If I have seen her, it is because you cannot
visit a man without knowing his wife. If you imagine there is any
connection--"

"I imagine nothing, Mr. Barker. I am bound to make every inquiry which
can bear upon the case. But I mean no offense."

"Some inquiries are offensive," Barker answered angrily.

"It's only the facts that we want. It is in your interest and everyone's
interest that they should be cleared up. Did Mr. Douglas entirely
approve your friendship with his wife?"

Barker grew paler, and his great, strong hands were clasped convulsively
together. "You have no right to ask such questions!" he cried. "What has
this to do with the matter you are investigating?"

"I must repeat the question."

"Well, I refuse to answer."

"You can refuse to answer; but you must be aware that your refusal is in
itself an answer, for you would not refuse if you had not something to
conceal."

Barker stood for a moment with his face set grimly and his strong black
eyebrows drawn low in intense thought. Then he looked up with a smile.
"Well, I guess you gentlemen are only doing your clear duty after all,
and I have no right to stand in the way of it. I'd only ask you not to
worry Mrs. Douglas over this matter; for she has enough upon her just
now. I may tell you that poor Douglas had just one fault in the world,
and that was his jealousy. He was fond of me--no man could be fonder of
a friend. And he was devoted to his wife. He loved me to come here, and
was forever sending for me. And yet if his wife and I talked together or
there seemed any sympathy between us, a kind of wave of jealousy would
pass over him, and he would be off the handle and saying the wildest
things in a moment. More than on